


Sonata

by alexjosten



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Andrew is persuasive in coaxing noises out of Neil, Explicit Sexual Content, Hickeys, M/M, Neck Kissing, Neil exploits Andrew's neck fetish, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjosten/pseuds/alexjosten
Summary: Andrew’s neck is a pale canvas that Neil paints with his tongue. When the first droplets of watercolour bloom onto his skin, Andrew becomes statuesque under Neil’s brushwork. His palette is minimalistic: garnet, crimson, scarlet, wine. But they complement the mauve, violet and plum from yesterday, and the honey, marigold and ochre from the week before.





	Sonata

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for a friend who requested either "Neil trying to keep quiet but Andrew is very persuasive in coaxing out noises" or "Neil giving Andrew hickeys because he knows Andrew loves it"... so I decided to write both.

Andrew’s neck is a pale canvas that Neil paints with his tongue. When the first droplets of watercolour bloom onto his skin, Andrew becomes statuesque under Neil’s brushwork. His palette is minimalistic: garnet, crimson, scarlet, wine. But they complement the mauve, violet and plum from yesterday, and the honey, marigold and ochre from the week before.

Andrew is a private collector; his gallery is vast yet he never displays Neil’s art in public. Andrew prefers to appreciate the textured acrylics of Neil’s work with his fingertips when he thinks Neil isn’t watching. Neil is aware he wouldn’t have acquired so many pieces if the aesthetic didn’t capture him. So he designs more with his mouth until Andrew is inspired enough to push him down onto his bed.

Neil knows he’s completed another masterpiece when Andrew demands to pay for it with one word: “Strip.”

Neil complies. Andrew focuses from his vantage point on the mattress, and Neil flushes with the knowledge that Andrew doesn’t need a camera in his hands to preserve his portrait forever. His clothes may as well be transparent with how Andrew has memorised his body, so when he slides back under the contrast of Andrew’s all black ensemble he doesn’t feel overexposed. Neil is inverted, on his knees and pinned to the drying line next to Andrew’s sheet music.

Andrew’s slick fingers inside him stretch the first note of Neil’s quiet overture. Andrew stops, uncertain at first, until Neil profusely pleads for him to continue. Neil muffles his poetry into his pillow but then Andrew grabs it out from under him. Neil is perplexed before Andrew kisses his spine and explains.

“I want to hear you.”

There’s an offbeat pause, and then, “Kevin is home.”

“Then let him listen.”

The possessiveness in Andrew’s voice drives a needy whimper straight from Neil’s very core and he sinks back onto his fingers greedily. The performance is enough consent for both of them, but as they work into a steady rhythm, Neil’s disjointed lyrics fade to an instrumental cover. It’s a classic staccato of _Andrew; Yes; More; Deeper; Harder;_ but Andrew’s heard it all before in their rehearsals.

He gets creative. He withdraws his fingers in a fluid motion. Neil’s indignant crescendo at the loss is almost influential enough to push straight back in, but Neil’s smart mouth is Andrew’s muse. He is resilient when Neil begins to beg him, simply teasing his entrance with a fingertip and watching Neil twitch and swear under him. He applies the lightest pressure and the whine it elicits is almost musical.

Then, he pulls back entirely. He smooths his hands over Neil’s shaking thighs, notes the tremble in Neil’s voice as he impatiently demands.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Do you want me to?” Andrew pushes Neil down, traps his weeping cock against the pillows bunched under his waist.

“Of course I do. Always.”

Andrew imprints a row of light kisses from the back of his knee up to the soft spot where his thigh meets the swell of his ass. He bites the thin skin there, watches as his own colours flourish on Neil’s skin. Vermillion, velvet, venetian red. He begins again with the other leg, talented in taunting his opponent.

“ _Andrew_ ,” Neil urges him, and his voice pitches an octave when he bites him again, “I want you inside me so bad. _Come on._ ”

“Then let me hear you,” Andrew reminds him, and then spreads him open with his tongue.

Neil’s debut moan reverberates around the room. It’s loud enough that they both freeze, and they can hear the floorboards creaking downstairs from the direction of the livingroom. Neil is panting heavily, fingers white in the sheets from where he’s bracing himself, but he doesn’t wait long before he’s demanding an encore.

Andrew massages his cheeks as he dives back in. His tongue laps hungrily in harmony with each loud homage Neil’s lungs heave. He pushes in as deep as he can go, eliciting a desperate cry of _‘drew_. And then he surges back once more to circle around his sensitive skin, causing Neil to sway to the side as his stamina strings out.

Neil chokes back a sob as he brokenly repeats prayers for release. His reprise of _oh my god Andrew, oh my god_ is rewarded when when Andrew grips Neil’s hips and hoists him back up onto his knees. He presses his clothed erection against Neil’s bare ass for a preview of the closing act.

“Fuck,” Neil’s voice cracks into a tenor, and then he’s interrupted by the curious creak of footsteps testing the stairs for safety.

Andrew shushes Neil with a kiss to his shoulder and strokes Neil’s back soothingly as they wait it out together. Neil clasps both hands over his mouth, having surrendered all trust over to Andrew and reserved none for himself. Their audience is hushed and the only sound from behind the curtains is the slip of Andrew’s zipper and the rustle of fabric as he gets into position. His warm up is a torturous practice run, a heated press of his head without enough force to enter Neil.

Neil’s shoulders hunch and vibrate with the effort he requires to stay silent. He tries to rock back onto Andrew, but Andrew directs his cock to glide mockingly against his perineum instead. Neil’s composure shatters and he curses Andrew’s name colourfully in at least three different languages.

The usher slams the front door to the apartment behind him. Neil jumps, and his stagefright is startled away. The curtain raises and he drops his hands to cuss Andrew out loudly, using his vibrant vocabulary to demand getting fucked hard enough that he can’t walk tomorrow, amongst other off script improvisations.

Andrew hard cuts from dialogue to action. Neil keens when Andrew thrusts and fills him up. The choreography from here is familiar, a waltz they’ve danced a dozen times. They fall into time easily, synchronising their movements as they ease into a simple two-step. Andrew bows over him to trail one hand down his scarred abdomen to ground him, and then wraps the other around Neil’s neglected cock to release him.

The cacophony of noises Neil makes when he comes is beautiful. It rouses an unexpected vocal response from Andrew, a baritone groan that escapes his chest during their finale. They collapse together and Andrew finds it doesn’t take a great deal of restraint to avoid immediately exiting stage left. He feels like the thin walls are still resonating with Neil’s acoustics, and he’s absorbed in the echo.

Neil’s pianist fingers tap out a lazy requiem against the clothed arms wrapped around his waist. Andrew tucks his expression into the back of Neil’s neck and lies with him as cold credits roll off their skin in tiny beads. Neither dare speak lest they shatter the facade that allows them to bask in this rare moment of intimacy.

A thunderous applause of footsteps down the stairs is the standing ovation that the critics write about. Neil laughs.

“I forgot about Aaron.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi or send me prompts on [@petalplate](https://petalplate.tumblr.com/)


End file.
